


Wishful Thinking

by Flammenkobold



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gen, Multi, Sasha is alive, Tea, Team Archives, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 07:53:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13899639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flammenkobold/pseuds/Flammenkobold
Summary: AU after Ep79.Sasha is alive, Jonathan is at a breaking point, Tim is about to break something and Martin has tea. Also cuddling. And a tiny bit of yelling. But mostly cuddling





	Wishful Thinking

**Author's Note:**

> Previously only on tumblr, but I feel like I should post this here on AO3 too.

"John, go look after your staff,” Elias tells him in no uncertain terms. “I’ll deal with the rest of this mess.”

“Okay,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Okay. Just, could you see if you can get their statements? Or at least some of them,” he can’t help but add, because that’s his job, that’s his purpose. It does come out half-heartedly, though, because Jonathan couldn’t even begin to figure out where to find the energy from to press for more.

Elias just sighs. “I’ll see what I can do,” he promises, and that is all John needs.

So he goes, because he doesn’t feel like dealing with the police or with the remains of the Not-Them or a bunch of deeply disturbed people, who’ve been missing for years and now found themselves stranded back in the real world.

He finds his assistants, down in the Archives, in the old panic room with the small cot. Sasha is sat in front of it on one of the old blankets they found, wrapped in seemingly every other blanket the institute has. Tim sits next to her, their hands intertwined. He is whispering softly to her, his face relaxed in a way it hasn’t been in months. They are so absorbed in each other, that they don’t even notice him standing in the door.

Seeing Sasha, his Sasha, like this, seeing Tim like this, stops him dead in his tracks. They look tired and drawn out, but they’re alive. God, they’re alive.

“Hey,” a soft voice whispers behind him and John turns his head towards Martin. Martin with a thermos flask in one hand and three cups precariously grasped in the other. It makes him want to laugh, because of course there is Martin with tea at the ready. Instead he reaches out and takes hold of the cups.

“Let me,” he offers and Martin blinks in surprise at him, before releasing the cups to Jonathan. He, too, looks tired.

“Thanks,” he mutters and his lips turn up into a light smile.

When Jonathan hands one of the cups over to Sasha, she gives him a wane smile too. “Thank you,” she says and it’s so good to hear her voice - to remember her voice - not just from a cassette tape, that his throat constricts.

“Not,-” he says, “not for that.”

Behind him Martin curses lightly, “I forgot-, I mean I didn’t think, there are only three cups. I’ll- I’ll get another one. And perhaps some biscuits?”

“Martin,” John cuts him off, “It’s okay, I can get it. Just sit down.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just- doesn’t even take a minute.”

Before John can argue back, Tim intervenes. “Martin, you heard the man. Sit down, you look like you’re going to drop over any second.”

“But-”

“You’ve done enough today, and John is old enough get his own cup,” Tim says, and John would like to feel offended, but he’s just glad that Tim takes his side, even if it is over something as simple as tea cups.

“Besides, I’m going to the kitchen, too,” Tim continues and grabs the edge of the cot to heave himself up, “I know where Rosie hides the good biscuits and someone needs to stay with Sasha.”

Sasha, in turn, raises both her hands, “don’t draw me into this, I can look after myself.”

“If you think we’re letting you out of our sight in the foreseeable future, you’re mistaken,” Tim teases, but even the cheerful tone in his voice can’t hide the truth of these words. Sasha smiles anyway, a little bit brighter than before.

“Fine,” she acquiesces, “Martin, keep me company?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says and scrambles over to sit next to her, still managing to throw a doubtful glance at Tim and Jonathan. He doesn’t say anything, and before he can Tim has steered Jonathan out of the room.

“Tim,” Jonathan starts once they’re through the door to the Archives, but Tim cuts him short.

“Don’t,” he warns, “Not now.”

And John must be tired, because he really doesn’t feel like arguing at the moment. Tim didn’t come along for some biscuits, so whatever he wants to say, he will once he’s ready.

It’s only when they’re in the kitchenette next to Rosie’s office, when Jonathan is taking out one of the clean cups from the small dishwasher, that Tim starts talking to him again.

“Having her back, makes up for a lot,” he says, “But it doesn’t excuse half the shit you pulled.”

John wipes the cup down, as if the water stains are in any form on his mind, but it’s something to do with his hands.

“I know, and Tim, I’m sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Tim’s says and slams one of the cupboard doors close, a box of biscuits in his hands. “You know, I think Martin was on to something with the whole talking to each other thing.”

“He does have his moments,” John attempts at a mild joke, which only earns him a hard look from Tim.

“Yeah he does and it would be good if you listened to him and talked to us. Might have saved us from being almost eaten by an inter-dimensional eldritch creation with some really stupid name,” Tim says harshly, as John puts down the towel he used to wipe down the cup.

“This is why- This is why I sent you away, so you wouldn’t be in harm’s way!”

“So you just did it to protect us?” the sarcasm is almost cutting and it sets John’s teeth on edge.

“Yes! And if you hadn’t decided to come back, you’d been safe-”

“So it’s our fault now?”

And then they’re both yelling over and at each other, until John realizes how absurd the whole situation is, when he waves his cup into Tim’s face, who’s threatening him with the biscuit box in return. Hysterical laughter bubbles up inside him and he can’t keep it under wraps, the long day, the terror, the information dump from their local tunnels resident and the months’ long lack of sleep, finally catching up.

It’s okay though, he thinks, as Tim joins in after a short pause, clutching at his arm.

It takes them a few minutes to calm down. “God, this is messed up,” Tim sums it all up neatly, between slowly subsiding giggles.

“Yes, yes it is,” John agrees and the realization of how much it is and how little he can do to actually change it, is kind of freeing. “I am sorry,” he repeats his earlier statement and Tim snorts.

“Good. And I am too tired and too sober to have another discussion about this again.”

“Me too,” John admits and rubs the bridge of his nose, when he has a thought. “I do know where Rosie hides the Whiskey for special occasions.”

“And you’re only sharing that knowledge now?” Tim leans back, giving him a judgmental glance, but his lips twitch up into a smile.

There is a hidden compartment at the back of the cupboard where the cleaning utensils are stored and John only found it after wanting to clean up spilled coffee late one night. He pries it open and retrieves the bottle. Officially the Institute has a strict policy on alcohol at the workplace, but he reckons it doesn’t matter much at the moment.

Tim pulls out a pair of small glasses and puts them on the counter for Jonathan to fill.

“Cheers,” he says and clinks his glass against John’s. It’s something small, but it does feel like more than just a ceasefire.

“Think we should take that back with us?” John asks after they finished off their glasses and Tim shrugs.

“Sasha is almost falling asleep already and I’m not sure if I want to see Martin drunk right now.”

“Right.”

“Another time perhaps?”

Jonathan has never been much for going out to drink, or for drinking in general. It hadn’t made him that many friends during university. He found the pubs usually too crowded or the hygiene too questionable to actually enjoy a pint. But this wasn’t just about that, not anymore, and with everything that had been going on… “I’d like that,” he says. “Perhaps a team night out?”

Tim nods, “sounds good.”

They make their way back, sans alcohol, but with the biscuits and a packet of crisps that Tim had picked up at the last moment.

Martin is curled around Sasha, one of her blankets tucked over his shoulder. Her head is resting on his chest, two half empty tea cups standing on the side. They’re both quietly laughing, when him and Tim enter and John does his best to overlook the tear tracks on their cheeks.

Tim strides right over and settles himself on the other side of Sasha, putting the box of biscuits next to him, while Sasha hands him one of her blankets.

John finds himself floundering in the door for a second, unsure of what to do. They all seem so comfortable around each other, and it strikes him just how far he had kept each of them at a distance.

“Don’t just stand there,” Sasha finally calls out to him. “Come over.”

So he does, awkwardly sitting down on the edge of the blanket, they’re all piled on.

“Really?” Tim rolls his eyes at him, while Sasha sits herself up a bit, just enough to push lightly at Martin.

“Scoot over. Jonathan looks like he could use a hug too,” she says and motions at John to take her place. “He does give great hugs, just so you know,” she tells him.

He freezes for moment, because all of this is probably not appropriate according to the Institute’s Workplace Code of Conduct or common sense.

Martin seems to sense his hesitation, and while he shifts to the side to make room for Jonathan, he still says, “You don’t have to.”

There is a lump forming in his throat and suddenly he wants nothing more than the offered warmth and to make sure, again, that Sasha is real and alive. That they all are.

So he does squeeze himself between Martin and Sasha.

“Is that really okay?” Martin asks again and tentatively places a hand on John’s shoulder.

“Martin,” he warns lightly and takes the hand to pull him into a real, albeit slightly awkward, hug, Martin’s chest pressed against his side. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thinks, and cuddling up with his team is the least weird thing that has happened to him this night.

Martin goes with it and wraps his arms around John, and manages to get hold of Sasha too, pulling her closer as well. John sometimes forgets how tall Martin is, but it does come in handy now. On Sasha’s other side Tim curls himself around her, his hand brushing up against John’s arm.

Sasha settles herself in between them and she does look only seconds away from falling asleep. His breath stops when she rests her head on his shoulder and his vision grows unfocused. She’s warm and real and alive. He tries to focus on her, on the lines of her face, just so he can memorize it, just so he won’t ever forget again.

“Hey,” she murmurs, meeting his gaze.

“You’re alive,” he mutters, the truth finally sinking in. Relief and exhaustion crashing down on him and he feel the last shreds of his composure slipping.

Sasha sleepily nods. “Seems like I am,” she says.

“You’re alive,” he repeats and feels Martin’s hand squeeze his tightly.

“We’re alive,” Sasha corrects him this time.

So they are.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~They all fall asleep like that. It’s hell on John’s back. Martin drools in his sleep. Sasha snores and Tim spreads out like a starfish at one point. Neither has slept better in month. The end.~~


End file.
